I won't say no (just not yet)
by Someone aka Me
Summary: Kingsley's in the middle of a war. He's not looking for a soulmate. Neither is Rosmerta.


For Amber for 10 fics for prompt of the day, who requested KingsleyRosmerta.

Romance Awareness: You have a counter that says how many footsteps you are away from your soulmate.

* * *

Kingsley never pays much attention to his soulmate. It's always in flux, his distance from his soulmate rising and falling as he goes about his life.

The thing is, Kingsley doesn't care about what fate thinks his life should be. He's got enough to worry about — there's a goddamn war on, and it's not the first one he's lived through.

He's kind of hoping to outlive this one, too.

His counter is on his wrist though, so every once in a while he can't help but notice it.

When he's at the Ministry, the count is high, well into the hundred thousands. When he's at Hogwarts, it's much lower. Sometimes it nears the hundreds.

But it doesn't matter. He's got bigger things on his mind. Like the two masked Death Eaters on his heels, a bit pissed that he interrupted the fun they were having in a nearby Muggle town.

Kingsley couldn't help but step in.

He kept them on his heels on purpose to start, trying to lead them on a merry chase far enough for them to leave the town behind.

But now he needs to lose them, so he slams into the Three Broomsticks with a bang.

"Can I use your store room?" he asks, but before Rosmerta can even answer he's slipping into the back room.

He might feel bad about possibly leading them to Rosmerta, but he knows she's fully capable of holding her own. He's not spent a lot of time around her, but he's been in the Three Broomsticks to watch her deal with drunk patrons and belligerent patrons and everything in between.

"Who the hell am I telling that you aren't here?" Rosmerta calls after him.

"Couple of Death Eaters, not actually sure who," Kingsley calls back.

Rosmerta just huffs out a breath that Kingsley thinks is almost a laugh. "Sure," she says, but she doesn't protest.

Kingsley disillusions himself and slips into the corner between some boxes.

The pair are only a few minutes behind him, and they make just as much noise coming into the bar.

He can actually hear Rosmerta sigh. "What have I said about masks in my bar, boys?"

"We're not here to socialize," one of them growls. "We know he's in here."

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that," Rosmerta says, wryly.

Kingsley drops his head into his hands. He's both impressed and slightly appalled at her audacity. Not many people dare to speak to Death Eaters that way.

It's when he lifts his head that he notices his wrist.

Eleven.

The counter says eleven.

He is eleven steps from his soulmate.

Huh.

"That asshole Auror," the same voice says. Kingsley grins just slightly at that. It's an honour to be an asshole to a Death Eater.

"I don't have a clue who you're talking about," Rosmerta says blithely. "And even if I did, no one's been in here for… at least an hour. It's three in the afternoon. Not exactly prime time."

Kingsley almost wishes he could see their faces at that. She's toeing the line of too-insolent, and he's a little worried for her, but her tone is complete nonchalance and it's probably helping to assuage any suspicion.

"Don't lie to me, you _bitch_ ," hisses the other voice and Kingsley fights the urge to step forward — because being discovered can only make it worse for Rosmerta.

But then there's the swish of a wand moving and a hiss of pain from Rosmerta and Kingsley bites his lip, _hard_ , reminding himself to stay put.

"Fuck off," Rosmerta says, her voice a bit strained. "I'm not lying."

There's a pause, and then the first voice says, "You'd better not be," and then there's the sound of footsteps retreating.

Kingsley feels the tension ease out of his muscles at the sound of the door slamming.

He glances down. His wrist still bears a bright, white number eleven.

Huh.

He moves out from the storeroom to find Rosmerta clutching at the counter and his countdown bearing the number one.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I've had worse," she says, but there's a tightness in her voice that tells Kingsley that whatever they did to her, it lingers.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I…" He didn't want to bring them here, but he needed a way out. He didn't mean for it to cause her pain.

"It's fine," she says. "They're assholes."

And, well, Kingsley isn't going to disagree.

"Thank you," he says. "For lying for me."

She looks at him, and her eyes are bright. "Honestly, any excuse," she says with a smile.

Kingsley grins back, and then can't help but glance at his wrist again.

Rosmerta's eyes follow his, land on the white number one on his wrist.

"Oh," she says. She shoves up her sleeve, and there's a black number one on her own wrist. "Oh," she says again.

Kingsley shrugs. "I never went looking. Didn't figure I had time."

"I never needed anyone," Rosmerta says. "I still don't. This is not happening now. But maybe… after all this is over, you can take me out for dinner, and we can talk."

And that's fair.

Honestly, it's better this way. Kingsley… doesn't need something else weighing on his mind. Not that he's not going to worry about her regardless, because he definitely is, but maybe it can stay in the abstract. For now.

And when it's all over, when they both come out of this alive, then Kingsley will take her to dinner.

* * *

Writing Month/Dragons: 918

Auction: "Don't lie to me", 90 coins

Romance Awareness: Day 26

Fortnightly: Snape: write about having a bad day

Shay's Musical Challenge: Spongebob the Musical - alt, write about someone saving the day / Gryffindor Themed Prompts: trait: Brave

Lyric Alley: 18. I make no apologies / Sophie's Shelf: 43. KingsleyRosmerta / Angel's Arcade: 12. Kurtis Stryker: (occupation) cop/auror, (character) Kingsley Shacklebolt, (dialogue) "This is not happening." / Film Festival: 12. (plot point) Standing up for yourself


End file.
